


Evanescence

by faryn_rose



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faryn_rose/pseuds/faryn_rose
Summary: In each life, he fills your world with wonder and purpose, and in each life, he vanishes from you without a trace.The story of love lived shortly.Inspired by his singing voice in White Girl/White Love/하얀소녀 because my heart wasn’t ready and never will be.





	Evanescence

You meet him in every lifetime, but you lose him a bit too quickly, too painfully, with him always far too distantly hovering just beyond the reach of your fingertips. In each life, he fills your world with wonder and purpose, with a reason to exist and a reason to love.

And in every life, he vanishes from you without a trace.

The first time, you belong to royalty in a far off place. A princess, residing high in her palace, suffocated by restrictions and responsibilities and he, the poor beggar who has had the audacity to fall in love with you.

He climbs up and through your window every night, hidden from the guards and your father who is king, and presses kisses to your lips until the night falls away into morning. You memorize his embrace and the words he whispers til the sun rises and forces your farewell.

It would have been a good love story, too, if he wasn’t found one day climbing up to your room, and banished from the kingdom, never to be seen again.

The second time, you are weak girl who falls sick as often as you fall in love, and he a boy who loves to read, so much so that his scent learns the mark of aged paper and mahogany. He tells you the stories he’s lived through ink-filled pages during the nights spent with giggles in libraries. However, his adventures aren’t enough to save you even when you can’t walk or move or do anything but cough upon your deathbed. He clasps your hands in his on your final night, tears streaming silently down down his cheeks, begging you with pinched eyebrows and broken whispers not to leave him.

Of course, you do.

The third time, you are a shy child and he is the boy next door, the same age, his parents friends with your own, already writing down the story of inevitable friendship. You grow up alongside him, with his teasing antics and pranks, and don’t notice he’s a young man until he returns with hardened eyes and defined jaw from training.

He becomes gentler, less harsh on his insults, but still retains the slightest hint of teasing behind his smile, still keeps the same intelligence and tendency to tuck his feelings away in the darkest corner of his mind. He speaks to you in the the later hours of the night, eyes alight and mind buzzing about the thoughts of this world, before you’re pressing your mouth to the pillows of his lips.

Everything becomes comfortable and familiar then, as if two old souls have finally slipped into each other’s embrace. You take roadtrips at midnight in his car when his parents don’t know (and neither do your’s) but you’re adults and it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s only when he finds a lovely field of green beside a lake shimmering underneath the moonlight and just-budding flowers does he tell you that he’s leaving for the war tomorrow.

Ice laces your limbs into immobility before his embrace melts it all, warms your heart, thaws the tears upon your cheeks. He settles beside you in the grass, both of you under the watch of the moonlight, and tucks your head into the crook of his neck, with nimble fingers trailing your waist. Low, sweet notes sound from his throat then, ones that ease your muscles and dry your tears.

He embraces you the hardest that night, the hardest, you feel, as if in lifetimes.

He marches off next morning in a uniform and a bag, glancing back at you once with a smile before disappearing.

A month later, you get word that he’s been killed in action in trying to help a wounded soldier.

You wish you would have died with him.

You are in your fourth lifetime now, in this era where you are lost in the stifling modernity, advancement, indifference of this new world. Yet, there are days where you feel thousands of years old, as if you’ve lived endless lifetimes. And though you don’t remember a single thing, you still gaze at aged buildings that stand tall over people’s ducked heads, whose eyes stare at the dirt as they rush by.

Or into the sky’s shifting colors, past the clouds, peering at the stars that seemed to have stared at you for eternity.

Or into the darkness of forests that seem to hold something within the grasp of their shadows, and call to you with delicate whispers.

There are days where the world feels too familiar, when people remark how wise you are, how your eyes seem to hold stories and memories that should not exist.

It’s these days where you gaze across the world in longing, knowing that something is missing, torn from half of your heart that left behind this painful abyss in your chest. The pain blooms when you find yourself forgetting that you are young, real, and that you are here right now, not in some endless stream of time and history.

Though, no matter how many people surround you in a good sense, even your family, you feel alone. It’s a loneliness so deep, you find yourself longing for a companion, someone that may be hidden in the aura of the forest, or the history etched into buildings, or in the twinkling of the stars.

Therefore, it’s a godsend when you bump into a stranger on the streets, dropping the files that you carry for your job at a business firm. You register that your offender’s chest is broad and firm as you stumble back with an apology, though his gentle hands curl around your upper arms to steady you in a second.

“Sorry about that,” you hear his voice, deep and charming, with a hint of embarrassment at the edge of his words. He is handsome, enough to have heat warm your cheeks and the words to dissipate off of your tongue.

“Are you alright?” He asks, large eyes curiously peering into yours before widening entirely.

He has recognized you.

You suddenly become something fragile in his grip, encouraging his hands to slip from your arms. His coffee eyes dart between your own, over your cheeks and the angle of your jaw, down to your lips. You are doing the same with him, trying to pull back a memory from when he has existed, to explain why he appeared so inexcusably familiar.

“Have we…” he breathes, brows furrowing slightly with eyes still lost in your face.

“…met?” you finish for him, though you know the answer already. “No, we haven’t.”

His face is entirely foreign to you, but you know that you’ve learned every inch of him, inside and out, despite not even knowing his name.

“R-Right,” he clears his throat, breaking eye contact and hastily ducking down to pick up your forgotten files. He straightens up again and holds them out to you with a shy smile. “Sorry.”

You hesitate for the slightest beat, knowing that once you take the files from his grasp, he will be off, gone into the world to tend to his business, disappearing in a blink of an eye without a protest from you.

Of course, that is what will happen. Why should you expect anything differently from a boy you’ve never seen before?

So, you allow him a small smile, and he flashes you his own, one that nearly stops the heart beating so determinedly within your chest. It’s an awkward tug and pull between you both for a few confounding, silent seconds, before he’s breathing an uncomfortable breath of laughter.

“I should be going now.”

Your cheeks burn. “O-Oh, of course,” as if you’ve done anything prior to make him root his feet here and stay, no matter how much he looks like he wants to, for some unknown reason.

He gives you a final, small smile, revealing a hint of dimples on his cheeks that has warmth fluttering throughout you. Then, he’s moving, brushing past you, making his trail down the sidewalk and out of your life as you watch from your place frozen here.

You can’t sleep that night, because the boy who should appear like the simplest, most ordinary thing in this world to you, is the exact opposite. You can understand if it was a romantic meeting of sorts, a lonely girl and boy flushing and blushing upon bumping into each other and not wanting to let go just yet. And even though that is exactly what it seemed, you feel as if it’s much, much deeper than that.

You finally close your eyes when you pray that you’ll see him again.

It only takes a day for that wish to be granted.

You start seeing him around the town, frame flickering between people walking throughout the streets, and hitches your breath when he falls within your line of sight. And just when you think you’ve lost him, you realize that he’s never out of your sight for too long before you see him somewhere else, like on a subway. Even with him adorably tucked between a mass of people, you still recognize him, and the entire feeling of confounding familiarity returns to you.

His hair falls in soft fringes over his eyes, headphones plugged into his ears and listening obliviously in deep thought as he stares at the train floor, until he notices you. The flash of recognition across his face is instantaneous, including the widening of his eyes and parting of his lips before he gives a smile and small wave of his hand.

You can’t help but smile because you find him so effortlessly cute, and wave back, earning a lovely smile from him as well. You notice that you both even get off even off on the same station, as well, but lose him far too quickly in the swarm of people.

You begin seeing him around the streets, on the buses, at the coffee shops, all as if he’s just materialized into this world only a week ago. You wonder if you simply haven’t noticed him in these places before, or if he’s been literally dropped into your life on a whim, but, oh, do you pray for him not to disappear, ever.

Your wish is granted again when you walk into work one day, in your job as an accountant, and see your boss standing by your desk with someone beside him. He tells you he is new, and that you should show him the ropes. Then, you’re noticing it’s him, the boy of coincidences, standing before you with widened eyes and pinched eyebrows as he processes your existence as well.

It’s a small time period of awkward, disbelieving silence as your employer looks between both of you confusedly. “Do you know each other?”

But the boy only gazes at you speechlessly, commanding the same wave of familiarity over you as you both whisper at the same time, “no.”

Your boss is still skeptical, and looks between you and him. “Well, this is Y/n, Changkyun. Changkyun, Y/n. Get acquainted, and then get to work,” he mumbles, patting the boy still lost in a daze before before walking off.

You’re too preoccupied in the way his name washes through your mind in waves, already learning to memorize the syllables and associate it with his handsome features.

Changkyun exhales a disbelieving huff of breath, a smile tugging at one end of his lips. “Some coincidence, huh?”

You force out a chuckle. “Yeah.”

It falls silent again as you both stare at each other, with him shyly scratching his neck, and you taking time to appreciatively trail your eyes over his handsome features. He’s cute, especially when awkward, though, eventually, you decide to break the tension in the atmosphere.

“I’ll show you to your desk.” You motion off to a distance, encouraging him to follow him as you stroll to an empty desk that is a bit of a distance away from yours, you note sadly.

He settles in and you tell him to let you know if he needs anything. He smiles, thanks you, and sends you smiling off to your desk. Everything is retained through a distant kind of politeness, expected between strangers, though you hope to break that barrier soon.

The day goes by normally, but this time, you find yourself glancing at him virtually every minute, at the new distraction he provides in a dreary place like this. He is always simply engrossed in his work, and you are both impressed and disappointed that he has caught on to the demands of this workplace so quickly.

The day passes by drearily, until it’s time to go home.  Changkyun gets up to leisurely packing his things in his black bag, and watch him with interest. He’s cute, you note, in the way he becomes so silently immersed in such a simple task as packing and wearing his jacket. He catches you staring at him, but you don’t have time to be embarrassed and take your gaze elsewhere when he’s smiles and gives you a small wave.

You hold your breath, waving in return, and he sets off, walking through the doors and leaving you behind to exhale a deep sigh.

You look forward to work the next day. Changkyun comes in with the same jacket and black bag, sets it by his chair and waves at you in hello. You wave back, your body growing a bit too excited for such a small gesture as he smiles in return. This is the only interaction you have with him as the hours tick by and he’s leaving for home again. This routine repeats for days and, though you crave for more contact, you don’t take any initiative to make it.

This wish too, seems to be granted, when the days blend together to have some amount of time passing by, and he has enough courage to trudge over to your desk one day.

“Hey, Y/n, I’m having some trouble with my numbers. Can you come check?” His voice is timid, eyes flitting from yours to your computer to the ground. But you feel much too excited as you get up briskly.

“Sure, no problem.” You say, walking over to his desk with him in tow.

He tries to apologize for the inconvenience, but you wave him off easily, smiling a little to yourself as you check his computer. It takes some time because he is so thorough with his numbers, before you find the errors and point them out to him. He listens deeply and thanks you generously, as if you’ve helped him build a mountain, and flashes you another smile that nearly stops your heart. You tell him to feel free to ask any time he needs help and stalk off back to your desk, re-energized for the rest of the day.

The days’ routine change a little bit, from then on. More and more work seems to be piling up on the company and, eventually, it results in a high traffic of people piling into the break room for coffee. It seems that yours and Changkyun’s coffee-making schedules come to be synchronized when you suddenly bump into him while walking into the break room. He is walking out in the opposite direction, with a hot cup of coffee in hand.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You nearly squeal as he quickly jolts backwards to avoid the steaming droplets that splatter out of his cup and onto the floor. Your heart sinks, thinking he will be angry or unforgiving, but he only chuckles.

“Don’t worry. I think a hot, scalding coffee bath is probably the only thing more effective in waking me up in the morning.”

You stare at him for a second before laughter bubbles in your chest, spilling out of your mouth and encouraging a smile of pride upon his lips. He then pats your shoulder once your giggling stops before walking to his desk, and you’re sure you’ll feel his touch on you for the rest of the day. His words continually flip over in your mind, coaxing smiles and unpermitted laughter, still, when it’s been ten minutes since he’s said them.

You decide to glance at him, watching as he absentmindedly takes an sip of his coffee. His face immediately scrunches up at the bitter taste, and you find yourself laughing again. As if on queue, his eyes land on yours, willing your body to freeze, because he might find your staring weird, but he only shakes his head with the same bitter, disgusted expression.

You imitate the action of adding sugar with your hands, but he immediately deadpans from the distance and shakes his head firmly. He stops and mouths the words, with determination, ‘ _that’s for the weak_ ’ so that you are fighting not to burst out into laughter in the middle of the office.

You try to turn back to your computer to concentrate, though the smile still remains upon your lips. Your eyes glance back at him, and a similar smile is on his face as well.

The next day, you are careful to walk around him upon entering the coffee room and he smiles as you do so. However, he’s back in five minutes beside you along the table, tearing open five packets of sugar and dumping it into his black coffee.

Chuckles are already falling out of your lips as you glance at him. “I thought sugar was for the weak?”

He only shakes his head with fake desperation. “‘ _Weak_ ’ is a debatable term’,” he says, leaving you laughing again as he leaves the room with a grin upon his face.

You find new vigor now that he’s on your mind everyday, and actually look forward to going to work, if it meant seeing him.

But even outside of work, you see him around, sometimes throughout the streets, or in a subway car, where he smiles and makes his way over to where you stand. He squeezes between hoards of people before appearing by your side, saying he’s very nervous here because he’s not a people person. He smiles along as you shut your eyes closed in laughter, and you swear you haven’t laughed this much in your life.

Other times, you see him around the supermarket and wonder if it’s your schedules that are so alike that explain you are almost constantly with each other. You realize then that there is an unspeakable similarity between you two, through your boss. Many times, your boss assumes that two reports that have been submitted are actually done by you, instead of separately by you and Changkyun, because your approaches and methodology are strikingly similar.

You know of one day where you mess up the numbers on a particularly important report that has your boss yelling at you in his office. You trudge back to your desk in low spirits and agitation, staring at the black, dark screen of your computer with a breathless sigh, before a strange urge has them resting on Changkyun’s.

He is already staring at you, concern seemingly weaving his face into stoicness before his features are melting into exaggerated disapproval, hands pointing to your boss’ office door before making a ‘no deal’ sign. You watch him in growing amusement, your frown lifting up into a smile as he deadpans then, lifting up both fingers to the space under his nose where he mimics the exact shape of your boss’ mustache.

Silent giggles are already falling for your lips as he fakes silent blabbering with his mouth, apparently an insult of your employer, and makes you feel a hundred times better already. His meme-ing belts back into his normal, beautiful smiling face, and he gives you a thumbs up that fills your chest to the brim with warmth.  

At night, you are a giddy mess in the sheets of your bed, your thoughts filled with him that don’t allow you to sleep. You know the faint sparks in your heart whenever you see him–the euphoria of simple infatuation, of falling in love so innocently, and you don’t want it to stop.

He starts using your phone number that you exchanged for work-related emergency to text you, first starting with work conversations that dissolve into discussions about the weather, then into the meaning of life and the feelings of pigeons or the ethical issues of eating plants that just want to grow. He leaves you laughing and smiling into the later hours of the night, vanquishing your loneliness and replacing it with warmth.

Your relationship seems to change, just the slightest bit, from then. He begins making as many attempts to go to the water cooler in between hours, because he has to cross your desk to get there. And each time he does, he makes a different face as he walks by, or does a little jig that has you hiding your giggles behind your hands.

You quickly memorize the dimples by his lips when he smiles, and the way his eyes light up when they see you, and the variety of faces he can pull off when trying to make you laugh, which is _all the time_.

You once take him to dinner out of necessity. Both of you are working late, and there is an anniversary of a good pizza place down the street, where free pizza is being served. His reaction to you asking him ‘out’ for dinner is nothing short of adorable. He, so usually confident in his comments and clever replies, is speechless for a small amount of time, eyes blinking disorientedly up at you before he’s stuttering out a _yes, sure_.

The night is spent laughing away in the busy restaurant, making fun of your boss, speaking about how chilly the weather is getting, and how damn good this pizza tastes. You walk back to the office, stumbling in laughter at how he complains about god having cursed him for eating far too much, that you shouldn’t let him laugh or breathe because it hurts _everywhere_.

Your conversations never end, even when you break apart and go home, because he’s already texting you before you’re even in bed, leaving you smiling at the bright light of your cell into midnight. The short break from when you fall asleep and get ready for work the next day is bearable when you finally see him walk through the doors again with his familiar, beautiful smile.

He calls you over to help with errors more often these days, claiming that something has gone wrong and asks if you can see where it happened. More often than not, the report is flawless, or it’s been marred by the simplest, most avoidable errors. When you glance at him skeptically, you see that his cheek rests in his palm, distant eyes on you already as he smiles warmly.

“You just called me over to talk to me, didn’t you?”

“Is that so bad?”

You flush and lightly hit his shoulder, leaving him chuckling behind your blushing frame as it shuffles back to your desk.

Often times, he’s the one who comes over to your desk, leaning against the wood with crossed arms and a smile to make small talk. You want to hate how much you like it when he distracts you, gazing down at you with sparkling eyes and a teasing smile on his lips, but you can’t. On more than one occasion, he is scolded to get back to work, and he simple salutes you in goodbye before walking off.

Warmth still fills you as he throws you a smile over his shoulder, the one you’ve memorized, and the one you never get enough of. It’s that night, spent laying in the chaotic storm of your bedsheets, wide eyes staring sleeplessly at your ceiling, that you realize he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Maybe just in this life, or maybe including all the others.

The part that he fills in your heart tells you that he is much more than funny jokes or passing smiles. He is the softness in his eyes on you when he thinks you’re not looking, and the deep thoughts he keeps reserved to himself all throughout the day, only to have it come flooding out in his texts at night. He is intelligent and kind and funny and thoughtful, and possibly the most _alive_ out of any person you’ve met in this dreary, too-comfortable life.

And you’re falling in love, you know it, you acknowledge with as much excitement as you do with hesitation, but there is some sense of…impending doom that makes you not want to take this further, to not sink your fingers deep into the dirt and dig away until you find gold, and cultivate this deeper connection you have with him.

And if you look closely, he seems to be holding back, too, in his lack of efforts in making a move himself. It is more apparent when the cheeky jokes and flirting fall away into deep gazes when the other is speaking, or hearts warming instantaneously when your eyes meet across the room. He is what fills you up and keeps you going, though all he’s had to do is exist.

One night demonstrates this better than any other time, when the employees all leave for home, and you both find yourselves working late together once again. You are typing away at your keyboard, too busy to make any conversation with him at all until you suddenly hear music.

It’s a slow, classical song with what you presume to be an opera singer in the background. Your eyes are immediately on him, despite the work that is screaming at you from the computer. He is already standing, work shirt and tie wrinkled, sleeves rolled up like they always are, with his feet are stalking towards you. He seems to be dancing as he walks, singing deeply and making intese, pained overexaggerated faces exactly in time with the high notes, eventually making you burst out in laughter.

He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of you, smiling now while still lip syncing, and takes your hand in his. You lift yourself from your seat with a smile as you both fall into waltz pose, hands on the small of your back, yours on his shoulder, before you’re both commencing the dance slowly. All stress and memories of work flow out of your minds with every beat, with both your voices shouting and wailing the notes along with the song until you are dissolving into a fit of laughs. His eyes curl into crescents once his chuckles die down, hands still holding your frame so delicately in his grip. Grins then melt into shy smiles, amused gazes slowly getting lost in the other’s as you realize your positions, and you suddenly become very aware of his proximity to you. 

You feel a tug, and you know he feels it, too, because, in the next second, your foreheads are coming to press against each other without hesitation. Sighs are released from both of your lips and your bodies still as the world around falls silent, with something assuring you that everything will be alright. Right now, it’s closed eyes and light breaths, two beings synchronizing with each other’s wavelengths, harmonizing with each other’s existence.

And it just feels too right. 

“This won’t last,” you whisper, as if something commands you to do so, and though he doesn’t say anything, the pained look in his eyes when he pulls away answers for him.

The next day, you don’t see him at his desk, and something horrible inside you panics. The hours are spent with an utter lack of productivity, with worried eyes glancing at his empty chair, then, to the clock and back. You figure he is just sick, but the doubt still stays and eats at your brain, especially considering that he would’ve texted you if he was ill, and he hasn’t texted you all day.

You see him come in when you’re leaving the building at the bottom floor. He is with his coat and large suitcase by his side, eyes lighting up when they land on yours at the other end of the hallway. And you don’t know why, you _don’t_ , but, suddenly, you find yourself dashing over to him, crossing the meaningless distance that separates you, and crushing him in the tightest hug you can muster. He drops his bag to the floor, and embraces you in return, with desperation beyond lifetimes.

When he pulls away, you’ve quite sure never seen more sadness in someone’s face. 

“Y/n. The boss is relocating me to a different headquarters in another country.”

Your heart sinks. “What?” You breathe, eyes darting over his empty, serious ones. All jokes and humor have left his face to leave behind a stoic, cold shell. 

“I’m leaving right now.”

“Oh.” Your voice falls. “When will you come back?”

Pain flickers momentarily throughout his face, eyes flitting up to you with knitted brows.”I’m not coming back.”

The silence that floods the space also serves to completely shatter your heart, and the world feels as if it’s falling out from underneath you. Your voice cracks, eyes memorizing his hollow ones. 

“O-Oh.”

His eyes are flitting all across the ground, lids blinking rapidly. “I just really need the extra money, and–”

“ _No_ , no, of course, I understand,” you physically wave him off, forcing the crippling coldness out of your chest. Life has its issues and its role in keeping him from you.

“I was wondering if you could drop me to the airport,” his defeated voice cuts to your ears.

“Oh, of course.”

It’s awkward and uncomfortable as you both shuffle into your car. It seems all the warmth that has sprouted between you two has been erased entirely, taking you back to the time period before you even met him. The ride is mostly silent, because there are no words that can ease the harshness of this situation. 

Everything passes in a blur before you realize that you’re inside the bustling airport, a far way off from security, and that he’s speaking to you.

“I guess this is goodbye.”

The weigh in your chest is almost unbearable. You know that he can still text you, or keep in contact in some way, as friends should, but why did it feel like you’re saying goodbye for eternity?

“Yeah,” you cough.

And you know that both of you are the truest forms of cowards, unable to do anything to destroy this situation with the simplest of confessions, so you simply put a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “Good luck.”

He smiles, and though it doesn’t reach his eyes, it still blooms warmth throughout your chest. He pauses then, eyes determinedly drinking in yours, as if thinking on something before he gives a single nod and walks off, suitcase rolling in tow. You watch him not even glance over his shoulder, not even pause to test fate, and instead melt into the crowd of people to disappear forever. 

And you don’t quite know what it is, but the deep, confounding emptiness that floods your chest in that moment is enough to have you breaking apart. A few tears escape your eyes, unknowingly, before they’re turning into a choked sob with a swell of your throat. Tears are now rolling down your face without mercy, and you are crying loudly, sobbing, blinking the water out of your eyes as the same words repeat through out your mind. He was gone, again, he was gone.

You force yourself to turn your back to the scene, and away from from the sympathetic gazes from the people around you. You convince yourself that he needs to survive financially, to put him before your own loneliness, your selfishness. Somethings are short-lived, and that’s how they are always meant to be.

Though, through your tears, you can’t help but think of what would happen if tried to transcend the power of fate, or if it is possible at all.

You only take one step forward before you hear someone shouting your name, the voice so familiar that it has you whirling around in a second. You see a flash of a head peeking through the crowd with familiar dark hair and a frame squeezing quickly through the streaming crowd of people. 

It’s Changkyun, and the realization has so much relief wracking your frame that you can breathe again. Through your tears, you briefly speculate if he has forgotten something, but his eyes seem to glow with light, as if he has found a new purpose. His pace in his journey back to you is fast, melting into a sprint once a grin finds its way to his lips and the suitcase handle slips from his grip.

The case hits the ground, forgotten, and urges you into a sprint of your own towards him. Your frames crash together in desperation and pure, pure relief. His arms wrap securely around your body, fingers coming up to grasp your tear-stained cheeks and press his lips firmly to yours. You inhale sharply before you melt entirely into him without hesitation, your hands clutching the fabric of his coat tightly and holding him as closely as you can. 

When you break away, your head buries into the fabric of his coat to sob loudly and freely. His hands smooth down your hair, whispering sweet nothings and words of comfort.

“You’re…you’re not leaving?” You hiccup, prying your face from his coat to look up at him.

He’s smiling warmly down at you, brushing the hair out of your eyes and gently wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“No. It’s not worth it. You…you’re worth it. I’m not leaving you, not ever.” He breaths as he pulls you into his embrace once again. You sigh and fall into him as if the weight of lifetimes has been lifted off of your shoulders.

And this time, he stays.


End file.
